The storm rolled in fast, rain coming down in heavy sheets that soaked you both within seconds. The street was empty, puddles already pooling at your feet, the roar of thunder rattling the sky overhead.

“Shit—c’mon!” Mondo’s hand closed firmly around your wrist, tugging you along without waiting for an answer. His grip was rough but steady, pulling you under the cracked awning of an abandoned gas station. The rain pounded just a foot away, splashing against the pavement while the two of you huddled in the narrow strip of dry ground.

Mondo shook his head, sending water flying from his wild hair. His jacket clung to his frame, dark leather plastered tight against his shoulders, dripping down his arm. He cursed under his breath, then, without looking at you, shoved the jacket off and held it out.

“Don’t argue—just take it, dumbass. You’ll catch a cold.” His voice was gruff, sharp as always, but the way he avoided your eyes betrayed something softer.

When you hesitated, his scowl deepened, a faint flush creeping up his neck. He stepped closer, practically wrapping the jacket around you himself. “Tch. I said take it. You think I’m gonna watch you stand here shiverin’? Not a chance.”

The storm howled on, but under the awning, the world felt smaller — just the two of you, the warmth of his jacket against your shoulders, and Mondo standing close enough that his heat pressed against your side.